


Starting a New Chapter

by lilithilien



Category: Queer Eye - Fandom, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Crack with Feels, Gen, Just Crack Really, LOTS of booze, but no sunscreen, lots of antiques, lots of black t-shirts and shades, lots of grief, queer eye fixes everything, sad french rat bastards need love too, though it's the toughest case they've yet to face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithilien/pseuds/lilithilien
Summary: “Our hero this week is Sebastien Le Livre, known to his friends as Booker...."The Fab Five come to save Booker from himself.
Comments: 105
Kudos: 270





	1. Chapter 1

**INTRO**

[Music plays](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nPy1z_6ZI8) as the camera scans the Parisian skyline, sails along the Seine with the Eiffel Tower in view, then swoops down to a black van rolling smoothly down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Inside are the five men the world knows as the Fab Five.

“Welcome to Gay Paris!” proclaims Bobby from behind the wheel, sparking a burst of whoops, cheers, and a “Yaaas queen!” from the back.

Antoni, riding shotgun, reads aloud. “Our hero this week is Sebastien Le Livre, known to his friends as Booker. He’s 6 foot 2 and … hmm, this doesn’t say how old he is, strange. Anyway, he’s a confirmed bachelor…”

From the backseat, Jonathan sing-songs, "We all know what that means!"

“He works as an operations consultant with an international logistics company. His job takes him around the world on special assignments, but he calls Paris home.”

Bobby nods appreciatively.

“He’s been nominated,” continues Antoni, “by his friend and co-worker, Nile. She says, ‘Booker’s a really great guy. He’s incredible at what he does and he would literally give up his life for his friends. But he’s had to deal with some pretty heavy stuff and he’s made some bad choices because of it, and I know it’s weighing on him. Right now, he’s taking a sabbatical from work and I’m afraid he’s spending it torturing himself over the past.’ Nile wants Booker to realize that no matter what’s happened before, he’s still got a lot to give in the present. So this week, we’re going to help our hero turn the page on his past and start a new chapter of his life!”

The Fab Five cheer as the opening credits roll.

**DAY ONE: AN OPEN BOOK**

As the sound of _things just keep getting better_ fades out, five men stroll down a Parisian city street. In the lead, Jonathan struts in his ankle boots as if he’s on a runway, his white culottes swaying. He has not completely forgiven Tan for confiscating the beret that matches his striped Breton boat shirt. Behind him comes Tan, wearing an eggshell linen shirt with an exaggerated French tuck into his linen highwater pants, one subtle shade off, and canvas shoes with no socks. Karamo follows, sporting a black tank and stylish skinny jeans in a slightly shimmery material that is almost but not quite gold. Antoni and Bobby bring up the rear. Antoni’s t-shirt, “ooh-la-la” emblazoned across it, cost him a cool €90, which he still believes is a bargain despite Tan telling him it looks like a toddler made it. Bobby wears a plaid shirt and jeans, and the linen blazer that Tan made him put on.

The quintet stop before an apartment building and push their way into the foyer. Peeling plaster and smoke-covered windows greet them. Jonathan steps over shards of broken glass littering the paving stones. Tan makes a face, scrunching his nose to dispel the odours of stale alcohol, but Antoni inhales deeply. “That’s an awful smell,” he remarks contentedly. Bobby looks around, eyes gleaming as he takes in the pre-war architecture, leaving Karamo to knock on the door. 

There’s a long moment of waiting before a rough voice calls from the other side. _“Laisse-moi, vas te faire foutre!”_

Antoni winces.

“It’s been a long time since my high school French class. What did he say?” Karamo asks.

“He, um…” Antoni grimaces. “Basically, he wants us to go away.”

“Didn’t he know we were coming?” Bobby asks. 

“I thought so.” Karamo slides out of the way and pushes Antoni to the door. “Talk to him,” he urges in a whisper.

_“Bonjour, monsieur. Désolée de vous déranger, nous recherchons Monsieur Le Levre.”_

The door cracks open. “I’m Sebastien Le Levre.”

“We’re the Fab Five from Queer Eye. We're here to see Booker.”

The door cracks and a man looks out, his doleful eyes scanning over the men, registering resignation more than surprise. He looks like he just woke up. “Oh, right. I forgot that was today.” The door widens and he says without excitement. “Do you want to come in?”

The men bustle inside, the quiet suddenly banished with excited introductions. “I’m Karamo. It’s great to meet you.”

“Oh hello, handsome, I’m Jonathan. Can I give you a hug?” 

_“Bonjour, je suis Antoni.”_

“I’m Bobby. I love your space.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Tan.”

In minutes, they have expanded to fill the entirety of the small flat, a blur of colours and energy swirling around Booker like a river around a granite boulder, exclaiming over what they find. 

“So many antiques,” comments Bobby, his eyes widening as he stares at a framed black-and-white sketch hanging by the door. “That...” He stops, stunned. “Is that a real Matisse?” 

Booker, looking sheepish, nods. “From way back before he was famous. It’s … been in the family for a long time.”

“Incredible. You’re quite a collector.”

Booker shakes his head, sniggering. “Not intentionally. They just seem to pile up.” He notices Bobby looking at his desk, covered in papers and books and everything else. “As do a lot of things.”

“It happens,” admits Bobby with a shrug. “Life’s messy, I get that. But is there a reason you keep a shredder by the door?”

Before Booker can answer, Antoni pops into view. “Do you mind if I look through your kitchen?” he asks, already reaching for the sideboard before Booker waves his assent. “Where do you keep your food?” 

“It’s all in there.” Booker picks up a half-filled glass of amber liquid as he points down to a small crate shelf beside the sink. In it, a few stacked-up soup cans prop up a bag of pasta, almost hidden by bottles of calvados.

“It doesn’t look like you cook much.”

“Not if I can help it, no.”

“There’s no real food here. It’s all alcohol,” Antoni mutters, opening another cabinet to find more bottles. _“Tabarnak.”_

Meanwhile, Jonathan and Karamo and Tan are exploring the bedroom. Tan busies himself pulling clothes from the wardrobe and flinging them on the bed. “Well. This is a lot of black t-shirts. A Lot.” 

Karamo peruses old photographs and receipts and other detritus gathering on a small dresser while Jonathan swoons. “Those eyes,” he sighs. “They’re like soulful soaking pools. I want to drown in them.”

“I think you probably could,” Karamo agrees. “I get the sense there’s a lot of unhappiness in them.”

“Well, he’s got plenty of sunglasses to hide them behind,” remarks Tan, holding up a pair in each hand. “There must be a dozen pairs in here. And … is this an ammunition belt?” 

Karamo snaps it from his hands and drapes it over his shoulder. “And who is this, I wonder?” he asks, seizing a blurred picture of a petite woman wearing sunglasses, somewhere in the desert, with Booker beside her.

“That’s my boss,” said Booker, appearing in the room without the others noticing.

Karamo blinks, hiding his surprise. “Your boss?" In the picture, Booker looks somehow content, not like the man before him who seems to be barely keeping things together.

“Yeah, that’s Andy. She'd kill me if she knew I'd kept that,” he smirks. 

“It looks like you two were close. Have you seen her lately?" asks Karamo.

“No, it’s been about six months since … since I took time off.”

They wait for him to offer more, but Booker remains stoically silent, looking at the picture.

“Well, that looks like a lot of sunshine. I hope you were both wearing sunscreen!” Jonathan proclaims, reaching for Booker’s hand and leading him to the washroom. “Come with me, I want to know how you keep that handsome face so handsome.”

“Must be good genes,” Booker says, sheepishly. “I don’t do anything in particular.”

“I’m jealous, you’ve got such a sexy French thing going! But you know, genes aren’t going to keep you looking young forever.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

*** 

The scene shifts to the Fab Five in their office. _This week,_ says Jonathan, _I’d like to get Booker thinking a little more about how to take care of this French sex god thing he’s got going._

Tan follows. _I feel like the words ‘hot mess’ were invented just for him. But he’s too hot to be hiding behind that mess of t-shirts. Hopefully I can show him how comfort and style can work together._

 _This week,_ says Bobby, _I want to give Booker a space for his work that’s separate from his life, where he can relax or have friends over, and where it looks more like him than about his grandparents._

 _He’s French,_ comments Antoni, _he should know how to cook. And I’m going to try to convince him that alcohol is not a food group._

Last is Karamo. _I feel like Booker has built some walls between himself and the rest of the world. My goal this week is to show him that walls can be protection but they’re also a prison. Hopefully, I can help him break free._

And, as the scene cuts to an interlude to the sounds of [Elle Me Dit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiHWwKC8WjU), Day One ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Laisse-moi, vas te faire foutre_ = Leave me alone, fuck off!  
>  _Bonjour, monsieur. Désolée de vous déranger, nous recherchons Monsieur Le Levre_ = Hello, sir. Sorry to bother you, we're looking for Mr. Le Levre.  
>  _Tabarnak_ = Quebecois curse (lit. tabernacle)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan, Tan, and Antoni have some novel ideas to give our hero a new dustjacket.

****

**DAY TWO: EVERY TRICK IN THE BOOK**

Day Two opens on various Parisian café shots showing diners happily eating in pairs or more under awnings. The camera first catches sight of Antoni and Booker as they come up the stairs of the Javel-André Citroën Metro and walk along the Rive Gauche. 

“You said don’t cook much,” comments Antoni, “so I thought, what better place to give it a try than the epicentre of French cuisine?” 

Booker squints up at the building before them. “Ah, oui. Le Cordon Bleu.” 

“Have you been here before?” 

Nodding, Booker says, “Some of my friends studied here, at its old campus though. I’m sure it’s much nicer now.” 

“Well, today they’re being very nice and letting us use one of their classroom kitchens. ” Antoni makes his greetings to the staff and leads Booker to one of the gleaming kitchen areas. “Do you like croque monsieur?” 

“I do.” Donning an apron, he adds, “I’ve had a few in my time. Mostly the Italian version though.” 

“With prosciutto, right? Well, since we’re in France we’re going to make the French version. We start with good bread, three kinds of cheeses, ham…” He lines up the ingredients as he goes. 

“ Béchamel.” 

“Right. Have you made one before?” 

“Mais oui.” 

“Of course you have!” laughs Antoni. “Maybe you should be teaching me.” 

“No, no,” Booker laughs along, “I’m sure you have some tricks that you can show me.” 

“I hope so! Have you ever used truffle salt?” 

They start making their roux, whisking in nutmeg and grainy mustard until the sauce is thick and rich, perfect for blanketing their bread. As they work side by side, Antoni chattering all the time, Booker seems to relax. 

“It sounds like you travel a lot. That can make it hard to cook for yourself. Is there anything you like to make when you’re home? Or that you make for others? Is there anybody special you cook for?” 

Booker shrugs. “Oh, for myself, whatever is to hand. You know, eggs, terrine, maybe soup. With others, my … my friends tell me I’m a terrible cook.” 

“The ones that studied here?” 

Booker laughs. “Yeah.” 

“Rude!” 

“Yes, well, I’m afraid they’re right. But sometimes they’ll make me a sous chef.” 

“Oh, but a good sous chef is priceless. Are you good with knives then?” 

“Extremely.” 

Antoni picks up on his cryptic tone and side-eyes Booker, but no explanation is forthcoming. “Well, maybe you can show off your cooking as well as your knife skills the next time you see them.” 

An unmistakable shadow clouds Booker’s face. “Maybe,” he says, but he sounds doubtful. 

“Anyway, it’s time to get these bad boys into the oven,” Antoni says quickly, eager to change the subject. “In my family, my dad did a lot of the cooking. As a matter of fact, he’s the one who taught me to make croque monsieur. But his version was much heavier on the cheese, and really tasty even though I was lactose-intolerant.” 

“Lactose-intolerant. I don’t think that existed when I was young.” 

“Right? Not in my family either. My parents were Polish immigrants, and wasting food was not allowed.” 

“It was the same for us. If you’ve once encountered scarcity, it’s not easily forgotten.” 

“Yes, that’s a good way to put it. And they had, that’s why they moved with my sisters to Canada.” Antoni checks their toasting bread. “Just about ready. Look at that bubbly cheese!” 

“I have been to your country. Many years ago, after I lost my wife. I had never seen such forests before. They … quieted my soul, I think.” 

Antoni nods. “They do that, yes. I didn’t know about your wife. I’m sorry.” 

Booker looks uncomfortable, but nods. “Thank you.” 

“It must have been hard, since she passed, to do domestic things for yourself like cooking?” 

“It was... it’s been a big adjustment. Cooking for one, it can just be a reminder that you’re alone, you know?” He glances around as if searching for an escape route and finds it in the oven. “I think these might be burning.” 

Antoni grapples for the oven and pulls out the slightly over-crisped slices. 

“Nicely toasted,” Booker proclaims as Antoni demonstrates how to plate the sandwiches. 

“Serve it with some cornichons, maybe cover up that bit of burned cheese … or maybe leave it. It’s nice to have reminders that things don’t have to be perfect to be good. And,” he adds, handing the plate to Booker, “that you deserve to have something good, even if it’s just for yourself, and even if it’s not perfect.” 

“This is actually very delicious,” Booker says, after taking a small first bite, and then a bigger one immediately. “Your recipe is unnecessarily complicated, but I enjoyed making it.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re not complicated, you’ve already let that cat out of the bag,” Antoni laughs. “Maybe you actually enjoy _cooking_ , if you can find the time for it. 

“Oh, I’ve got nothing but time,” interrupts Booker with a hollow laugh. 

“So while you’re on sabbatical, maybe this could be the perfect time to try out some more recipes, even some of the complicated ones. Maybe find someone special you can cook for.” 

“Maybe. Yeah,” Booker pauses, as if thinking, “yeah, that could be nice.” 

“Well hello, gentlemen,” Tan says, sauntering into the dining room and hugging both men. “Did we have a nice lunch?” 

Antoni slides his plate over. “We did! We had a _complicated_ lunch. Would you like a bite? I saved you a piece without ham!” 

“Thank you, my dear … mmm, that’s delicious. Oh my god, so creamy. Just what you want to eat before trying on a new wardrobe!” 

“Hey, no body-shaming allowed!” Antoni reminds him. 

Tan claps his hand on Booker’s shoulder. “This man has nothing to be ashamed about. I’m just excited about getting you in some new clothes. Are you ready to go shopping?” 

“I’m ready.” 

After hugs all around, Booker and Tan leave the kitchen, less pristine than it was before, and make their way across the road to the nearby Centre Beaugrenelle. “We don’t have to go far,” Tan explains, “but we’ve got just enough time for you to tell me about your personal style.” 

Booker shrugs and gestures to what he is wearing, a grey tee under a light blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and faded jeans. “I’m afraid you’re looking at it.” 

“Well, I can’t say I hate it. It looks like it’s comfortable and not a lot of fuss.” 

“Yeah, comfort is always important, especially when I’m working. I need to have clothes I can move in.” 

“Good, that’s good to know, I’ll keep it in mind. I’m not going to try to turn you into someone who’s fashion-forward - that’s not you.” 

“Definitely not,” Booker chuckles. 

“But I’d like us to elevate your style beyond cheap t-shirts. You’re a handsome man, you want people to notice when you walk into a room. You don’t want to look like a teenager, you want to look your age.” 

Booker smirks at that. “I’m not sure I really want _that_...” 

“No? Well, we’ll see.” Tan guides him into the shopping center. “I’m taking you to Balibaris, I think it’s perfect for you. It caters to urban men, like yourself, who want clothes that are timeless but not fussy. And all their pieces work together, which makes putting together a wardrobe super easy. When you’re going out for a job, you can just chuck a selection into your bag and you’ll end up looking fabulous.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“So I thought we could start with these,” Tan continues, “and maybe these…” He swirls through the racks and shelves to pull out a selection of earth-toned pieces in different textures, talking all the while. “Do you like a suit? Do you ever wear suits? Here’s a nice one I’d like you to try on...” 

Finally, Booker retreats to the changing room, amusement on his face. He comes out wearing [moss cotton chinos and a green pullover ](https://i.imgur.com/knl3ojL.jpg). The whole thing is topped with a cardigan, the edges of which he holds out hesitantly. “I’m not sure about this.” 

“The cardigan makes you look older, doesn’t it?” 

“Oui.” He lets it flop and it hangs lifelessly over him. “And I _feel_ older.” 

“Let’s swap it out with this.” Tan hands him a [suede leather jacket ](https://i.imgur.com/DX1hbZM.jpg). “How’s that? Better?” 

“Much better.” Booker swings his arms, and turns to admire himself in the mirror. “Yeah, I like this.” 

“Good. We’ll keep that. Next?” 

This time, Booker emerges wearing a [wool suit with a white tee and trainers ](https://i.imgur.com/uhFO0wT.jpg). 

“Now, I know you don’t wear suits a lot, which is why I chose this one. It’s a city suit - I love the cut of the jacket, it works so well with a t-shirt. And this t-shirt is a cotton-linen blend so it fits better, and - may I?” Tan tucks the front of his shirt into his pants and tweaks the sides. “There, how’s that?” 

“Good. I like it.” 

“There’s a lot to like. You’ve got a great body, height, shoulders - this will bring it all out. And what do you think of the trainers?” 

“Perfect,” Booker laughs, “especially if I need to make a getaway.” 

“Already thinking of escape - do I sense some commitment-phobia?” 

Booker smirks. “Attention’s just not something I’m used to.” 

“Well get used to it, baby. People are going to swoon. Okay, there’s one more I want you to try...” 

Booker’s last outfit is a [blue collarless shirt, paired with well-fitting dark jeans ](https://i.imgur.com/i0qBd6q.jpg)and a marled t-shirt, and tan desert boots. Perhaps because it’s similar to his ordinary clothes, or perhaps because at last he’s grown comfortable with the fitting process, Booker practically bounds out of the changing room with a faux-model walk. 

“Now, this is a variation on your normal outfit. Instead of a standard Oxford over a t-shirt, this steps it up with a mandarin collar. It’s also great to wear under a pullover, or that jacket you tried on earlier. 

“I definitely like this. The shirt’s soft. It feels like I’ve already worn it for years.” 

“Yeah, I’m in love with this fabric. It’s so light, like wearing a breeze. And those jeans - I have to say, just getting some that fit you well makes a huge difference in your derrière” 

Booker laughs, and for the first time it sounds genuine and full. “Are you checking out my derrière?” 

“I am! And others are going to be too, I guarantee. So how do you feel?” 

“I feel good. It’s not a huge departure from my old clothes, but it does feel more polished.” 

“That’s great, that’s what we want. You already seem a lot more comfortable than you were when we started. Do you feel like you could wear this to go out? Or when you have someone over to your place?” 

“Yeah, I definitely do. I can definitely see that.” 

“Well, hello, handsome!” chirps Jonathan, appraising Booker. “This is a great new look.” After kisses all around, he asks Tan, “So can I steal this gorgeous man away?” 

“I suppose so,” sighs Tan, “if you must.” 

“I must. Come with me!” he beckons to Booker. 

A few minutes later, they’re at the Sensation Spa, and Booker is reclining in a barber’s chair. “Later, I’m going to give your hair and beard a quick trim, but what I thought you really needed was some pampering. When’s the last time you had a facial?” 

“In my whole life, I’ve never had a facial.” 

“I knew you were going to say that. So many men look at self-care like facials and massages as too feminine or girly, but why should women have all the fun? It’s time we men took back self-care! So I’m going to turn you over to Gaspard - he’s the expert so you’re in good hands.” 

“Bonjour, Booker. So I can customize your treatment, I’ll start by analyzing your skin -” 

“Analyzing?” Booker sits up straight, almost knocking the man down. “You’re not going to take samples of my skin, are you? 

“No, no. I use only _la loupe,_ a magnifying glass.” 

Booker reclines again, although his body is coiled tight as a spring. As Gaspard starts again, a little more cautiously this time, Jonathan perches on a stool in front of him. “Do you hate needles? I don’t blame you.” 

“Yeah, sorry - sorry,” he says a second time to Gaspard, who shrugs. “That just brought up a bad memory.” 

“That’s the last thing we want,” Jonathan soothes. “We’re here to help you make some new good memories. Just relax and feel yourself taken care of.” He breathes in dramatically, then out, encouraging Booker to do the same. Although he looks uncomfortable at first, Booker’s body gradually seems to ease. 

The rest of the facial proceeds, time-lapsed and without incident, until Gaspard returns Booker to Jonathan’s hands. 

“I already like the shape of your beard so I’m just cleaning it up a bit, but for your hair I’d like to go shorter on top, just zhuzh it up a bit, which you can’t do so much when it’s this long. Is that okay with you?” 

“Sure, whatever you think’s best. I’m in your hands.” 

“Your skin is just glowing now!” Jonathan exclaims as he clips Booker’s hair. “How does it feel to have that brand new face to show off to the world?” 

“It feels pretty nice, I have to admit. Especially the head massage.” 

“Aren’t those the best?” agrees Jonathan. “I kind of feel like if everybody had one of those every day, the world would just be a kinder place, you know?” 

Booker chuckles. “You might be on to something.” 

“I know, right? Maybe I could run for president on the self-care ticket. Speaking of self-care, now that you’ve got this fresh new face, I want us to talk about how to take care of it. From what I can tell, your work takes you to all kinds of places that might not be kind to your skin. Is that true?” 

“I’d say that’s true, yes.” 

“I’m talking wind, I’m taking sand, I’m talking scorching sun...” 

“Among other things, yeah.” 

“Well, that’s all hard on your skin. And it might not take its toll right away, but ten years down the line, you’re going to see every time that you forgot to moisturize or use sunscreen. And it’s not just for your appearance, either. I mean, we love the sun but she’s deadly! So I’ve gotten you some skincare products that are super-easy to use so you can protect that beautiful face and make sure it keeps glowing for a long time.” 

“Yes, boss.” 

“Oh, yes, boss,” repeats Jonathan. “I like that. So, are you ready to see the new you?” 

He turns Booker’s chair around to face the mirror, where Booker has to blink twice. [“Wow,” he says, and again, “wow.” ](https://i.imgur.com/q3lwZlh.jpg)

“You like?” 

“I … I look…” He halts, searching for the words. 

“Like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders?” 

“Yeah. Exactly.” 

“Well, it’s still just a haircut, but the good news is that if you can start to act that way, you’ll get there.” 

Booker looks uncertain, like he wants to believe this is true. “Do you really think so?” 

“I’m as sure of it as I am that you’ll be turning heads the minute we walk out of this salon. Are you ready to see?” 

“Allons y.” 

And so, as [Alors On Danse ](https://youtu.be/VHoT4N43jK8?t=21)begins to play, Day Two comes to an end. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent far too much time researching croque monsieur recipes and men's clothing stores in Paris.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero hits the books with Karamo, Bobby and an unexpected new friend.

Day Three begins with a cutaway with Karamo in the Fab 5's office. _Booker's been a tough nut to crack this week,_ he says. _He keeps his cards close to his chest. I get it - in his line of work, he's got to be able to compartmentalise, and he can’t just let his feelings hang out. But by holding everything in, it’s making it hard for him to find the kind of connection that we all need. So I've got a plan that I hope he’ll want to try._

**DAY THREE: COVER TO COVER**

Booker is waiting on the pavement outside his building when Karamo drives up. As he climbs in the van, Karamo exclaims, "Look at you! You look 10 years lighter.” 

Booker laughs. “Jonathan said ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ so I’m giving that a try.” 

“You know, that's really good advice. We've got to practice new habits, especially the ones that don't come naturally to us. If we go in knowing we're faking it, we know that we're going to make mistakes, and that's okay. 

“And speaking of habits, I know you said you’re taking a hiatus from work. What’s that been like? How have you been keeping yourself busy?” 

Booker brings his fist to his nose, twists it back and forth a few times with an embarrassed smirk. “Drinking, mostly. It hasn’t been… to be completely honest, it wasn’t my choice to take a - what did you call it, a hiatus? I messed up - I did more than mess up. I did something stupid, and selfish, and I hurt my team. So mostly, I’ve been trying to come to terms with that, you know.” 

“By drinking?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So you’re hurting yourself to make up for hurting them. 

Booker grimaces. “I suppose you could put it that way.” 

“Do you believe that's what they would want?” 

Booker goes to nod but stops himself before his head dips. He pauses in thought. “No. I know they were very angry at me. I know that it will take a while for them to forgive me, and even longer to trust me again. But no,” he shakes his head firmly. “I don't believe they want me to be hurt. I know they don’t.” 

“And if we’re being honest, I don't believe you're really choosing to hurt yourself either,” says Karamo. “Addiction is a disease - you can't suddenly wake up one morning and say ‘I don't have this disease anymore.’ You need treatment, and you need people to support you.” 

“Don't worry,” laughs Karamo as Booker looks around warily. “I'm not checking you into rehab today. I've got something better for us.” 

They stop outside la Société Protectrice des Animaux. “I thought we could have a talk, but instead of doing it over coffee, I thought we’d do it with puppies.” 

He opens the door to a large playroom full of soft balls and spongy pillows and chew toys, all well used. Over, under, beside and through them race a small herd of puppies of assorted sizes and breeds. “Look at them all!” exclaims Karamo, as the puppies clamber over themselves in greeting. “And every one available for adoption. Antoni is going to be so jealous!” 

Booker has already dropped to his knees, laughing as the puppies charge into his chest. A pug leaps up and starts licking him eagerly. It’s pushed aside by two identical cream-coloured lab puppies, all ears and paws, both competing for attention but not noticing the spotted spaniel that stealthily slips in at the side to nuzzle in Booker’s ear. 

“You like dogs then?” Karamo asks. 

“I do.” Booker gives up on his balance and sits squarely down, his splayed legs becoming an agility challenge for a tiny white terrier and a grey poodle puppy that could easily be mistaken for fast-moving clouds. “Did you know, Napoleon once said that if you don’t like dogs, you cannot be faithful yourself?” He shrugs, displacing the spaniel for only a second before it lunges back into his side. “But he was also attacked by Josephine’s dog on their wedding night, so who really knows.” 

Karamo chuckles. “There’s definitely a mixed message there. Yes, there is, isn’t there?” he continues in baby-speak to a dalmatian who sniffs him up and down as though hunting his other 100 companions. “And talking about loyalty actually segues into what I wanted to talk about - your support system, and the people who can help you when you’re struggling. Can you tell me who’s in your support system?” 

“Well, mostly it’s my boss - ow! _Allons, ne me mord pas!_ ” he corrects a chihuahua mistaking his finger for a chew toy. “My boss, Andy, and Joe and Nicky.” 

“They’re all your work mates, right?” 

The spaniel has gone from Booker’s side to his lap, not so subtly displacing the offending chihuahua, who bounces over to nibble on Karamo’s shoelace instead. “Yeah,” Booker says, scratching the spaniel’s spotted belly. “We’ve been together a long time.” 

“But you haven't seen any of them in six months, right? Yes,” he nods to the poodle pups playing tug-of-war with a soft bone, “you should definitely destroy that toy. So,” he returns his gaze to Booker while absently scratching the belly of a very relaxed German shepherd, “who do you see in your daily life that supports you?” 

“Well, there's Stefan, at my local…” 

“He's a friend?” 

“He's the bartender.” 

“Ah. Anyone else?

In reply, Booker just shrugs.

So what do you think is holding you back from inviting more people into your life?” 

“It’s not that I don’t…” Booker hand stills as he thinks. In response, the puppy waves its front paws at him. Without a second thought, Booker resumes his touch. The pup lolls its head happily to the side, his tongue hanging out of what looks like his smile. “I knew this was going to be the hard part,” he admits. 

“It’s okay,” Karamo reassures him. “Take your time.” 

“It's not that I don't want people in my life. Being alone can be terrible, and it... it can make you do some really stupid things, I know that now. But when you care about someone and you can’t help them or take away their pain, and you know you’re causing them pain just by being there… when they’re gone and you’re still there, it hurts too much.” 

Karamo nods with sincere sympathy. “I know you lost your wife and sons," he says quietly. “Is that how it felt with them?” 

Booker nods. “I was never a good husband, or a good father. I wasn’t there for them and I couldn’t give them what they needed. And yet, since they’ve been gone, I feel like all I’ve done is grieve.” 

“There’s no shame in that,” says Karamo kindly. “Everyone grieves at their own pace. It seems like you’re still dealing with the trauma of the experience today.” 

“Maybe. It was a long time ago,” Booker says, “but sometimes it feels like yesterday.” He looks down at the little dog in his lap, as if noticing its presence for the first time. It licks his hand. “And then, sometimes I can’t even remember their faces.” 

“That’s all pretty normal,” says Karamo. “I’m not saying it’s easy, what you’re going through, just that you’re not the only person who’s had similar feelings about loss. And it can affect every part of our lives.” 

“You’ve probably heard of the stages of grief,” he continues. “There's denial, anger, bargaining, depression,” he counts them off on his fingers as a husky pup, thinking it’s a game, lunges for his hand, “and finally there’s acceptance - or hope, which I think is a better way to put it. It's not all in one direction, you may skip a stage, or you may go back and experience one again. But over time, the idea is that you’ll arrive at hope for the future, and what's left to come in your life.” 

“The problem,” Karamo continues while scritching the husky’s chin until it runs off to play with a sibling, “is that it’s easy to get stuck, especially when you get to stage four, because depression is already overwhelming. And it’s not always easy to share. Have you ever wanted to talk to a friend, but they were in such a good place that you just held it in?” 

“Oh, so many times.” 

“Or when they were in a bad mood and you didn’t want to make it worse? And then you isolate yourself more, or end up at the bar with Stefan, and that feeds into this vicious cycle and it’s really tough to get out.” 

“That’s where I am now, I think. Where I’ve been for a long time, if I’m honest.” 

Karamo nods. “It doesn't matter how much time has passed. If you haven't given yourself a chance...” His words are drowned out by a cacophony of barking, a tangled mass of puppies all joining in the mayhem. “If you don’t let yourself acknowledge what you’ve lost, it’s hard to move forward. I’d like to help you come up with a plan to move forward. Have you ever seen a therapist?” 

“Not really, it always seemed… I don’t know, there's a lot that I can't discuss, with my job..." He trails off, then adds, "And the thought of someone analysing my dreams, that feels too intrusive.” 

“What you’re talking about are Freudians and Jungians, but they’re not all that way - hashtag ‘not all therapists!’ I’m specifically thinking about a grief therapist, someone who’s specially trained to help people in similar situations to you. And believe me, there are lots of people with top security clearances who get help from therapists. Even if you can't share everything, they can push through the emotional block of losing someone and get to that next stage, where you can treasure your memories of your loved ones but also open yourself up to your future.” 

“I want that. It’s scary to admit, but scarier to think of going on like this forever. Maybe I could use some help.” 

The spaniel, sensing his mood, flops over with some effort, landing right side up with his nuzzle just at Booker’s chin, which it begins to lave intently. Booker picks it up, the puppy feeling like it weighs nothing, and gives it a kiss. “Hello there,” he whispers. 

“It is scary - this is a brave step to take. But there’s no shame in admitting you need help. We all do sometimes. So do you think you might let me put you in touch with some grief therapists I know?” 

“Yes, all right.” 

“And don't give up, if it doesn't take right away. It might take a little while to find someone who’s a good fit.” He nods at the little spaniel that’s settled back into Booker’s lap, lazily licking his hand. “Or you might find one that clicks right at the start, like this little guy.” 

“I think this little guy's a little lady,” Booker says, scritching the pup’s ears. 

“My apologies, ma'am. So how are you feeling?” 

“Better, I think. Although that could be due to all the puppies,” he says, laughing. The herd, which have hardly stopped moving the whole time they’ve been here, scamper over his outstretched legs. “But no, I feel … maybe, hopeful? Like I can see light at the end of the tunnel.” 

“I’m glad to hear that. Now, Bobby's waiting for you back at your apartment, but there’s one thing I wanted to ask you first. Your friend Nile wants to come and see you.” 

Booker looks stunned. “She does?” he finally says, his voice cracking. 

“And I thought that, if you were up for it, you could give her a call and invite her over this week.” 

“Okay…” Booker’s expression is caught somewhere between anxious and eager. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Great,” says Karamo, already dialing the number. “Hi, is that Nile? Hi, this is Karamo.” 

“Hey, Karamo!” 

“I have somebody who wants to talk to you.” 

He hands the phone over to Booker who takes it nervously. “Nile?” 

“Booker, hey!” Nile’s voice is bright. “You having a good week?” 

“Yeah, thanks. It’s been… surprisingly good.” 

She laughs. “It’s good to be surprised. It’ll keep you young.” 

Booker smirks. “Hey, I know it might put you in an uncomfortable position, but I’d like to thank you in person for this whole week... if, you know, it’s not...” 

Nile doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah? I’d like that!” 

“That’d be great,” Booker says, with palpable relief. “I could meet you somewhere for dinner…” 

“Hell, no!” she interrupts. “I know how this works. I want to see your place!” 

Booker smiles. “You and me both, kid. So are you free on Friday?” 

“You bet. I’ll see you then, old man.” 

Booker hands the phone back to Karamo, who grins and asks, “Okay, should we go see your new digs?” 

“Yeah… I just need to do something first.” 

***** 

The scene shifts back to Booker’s building, where Karamo and Booker are getting out of the van. In Booker’s arms is the tiny spaniel from the SPA. He sets her down on the pavement and she walks directly to the front door as if she already knows her way. 

Bobby opens the door and they step into a place that is unrecognisable from before. Booker looks around in amazement. “Is this the same place?” 

“There might’ve been a few changes,” Bobby grins. “And who is this?” he says, crouching down to greet the dog. 

“The shelter called her Noodle,” Booker says, “but I don’t think she’s going to keep that name.” 

“No, you’re not a noodle, are you?” Bobby says, snuggling the little dog, giggling as it licks his nose. “Oh right,” he says after a bit, “you probably want to see your place. Please, entrez.” 

Booker steps in, stunned. “I don’t even recognise it.” He looks around in amazement. No longer is the room illuminated by sickly yellowish bulbs. Now, light streams in through the window, shining against the [ sleek built-in cabinets ](https://i.imgur.com/NBa3Mum.jpg) where before had stood a decrepit sideboard covered in decades’ worth of crumbs. 

“I didn’t get you a ton of appliances, because they can just get in the way if you aren’t using them frequently, but I figured you would appreciate a dishwasher.” Bobby shows him the appliance hidden away behind one of the cabinet fronts. “And for more counter space, you’ve got this island that doubles as a dining area.” 

“It’s incredible,” gasps Booker. “I might actually cook now.” 

“I’m thrilled to hear that,” comments Antoni, just coming in the door with Tan and Jonathan. There’s a flurry of hugs followed by squeals of delight as they meet the pup. “That’s not-Noodle,” Bobby tells them. 

“Well hello, not-Noodle,” they chorus. “Smell behind her ears!” Antoni exclaims, “she’s got that puppy smell!” The pup wallows in all the attention, then starts sniffing around the kitchen. 

“You were just outside,” Booker warns her, “don’t even think it.” 

Antoni’s head pops up. “Oh, can I take her out? Come on, guys, let’s take not-Noodle out to do her business.” 

“I’ll stay,” Karamo says. “I’ve seen enough dogs today.” 

“Rub it in!” exclaims Antoni. 

“Now, let me show you the living room,” Bobby says, as the others go outside. 

The rest of the room is open, with a [ cosy sitting area on the right side ](https://i.imgur.com/7HmYfxX.jpg?1) , and [ floating shelves on the left ](https://i.imgur.com/5xDbZkM.jpg?1) . There’s not really a dominant colour in the room, just a happy collaboration of earth tones melding and merging together. “ Incredible!” Booker says as he takes in the whole room, piece by piece, with a look of disbelief on his face. When he sees the pictures hanging on the wall, he gasps. “You framed all the art!” he notes with happy surprise. “I always meant to get around to that!” 

“I did, and let me tell you, the framer was extremely interested in them. Apparently some of them are worth quite a lot.” 

“They look wonderful there. Everything does. This sofa just wants to be sat on.” 

“Try it out,” invites Bobby. “I kept one of your chairs,” he points to an armchair at the end of the room, “but I’m sorry, the others had to go.” 

“It was their time,” Booker says as he relaxes into the sofa, stretching his legs out to the ottoman. “Oh, yes, this is much better. Perfect for watching PSG.” 

“And the best part - check this out.” Bobby hands Booker a remote control. “This controls the television, and the lights, and the curtains.” He demonstrates how it all works with just the touch of a button. 

Karamo laughs. “You’ll never need to get up.” 

Booker looks in amazement at the wall opposite him, where his keepsakes and mementos have been presented in tasteful groupings, not piled randomly as they were before. His gaze lands on the end of the floating shelves. “ [ Wait, is that a desk? ](https://i.imgur.com/PxoIIv5.jpg?1) ” 

“Yes, I want you to see this - you’ll have to get up, sorry! So you know how you had all the papers and receipts piled up, and the shredder was in the middle of the room, and it was just hard to find anything? Well, this will help you.” He points out where Booker can keep all the things he needs for work, where all the cords are stashed, the compartment where the shredder and printer are cleverly hidden. 

“Incredible,” Booker whistles. 

“And the best part is that, when you move out of this place - and you really should, because this building is starting to fall apart - when you move, these modules can just be detached and moved with you.” 

“That’s good to know,” nods Booker. “But to be honest, it started falling apart ages ago. I think it’s just picking up speed now.” 

“Well, then I’d better hurry and show you the bedroom before the whole thing collapses on us.” 

He opens the door and Booker’s mouth falls open. “C'est extra!” he whistles. [ The room is lush with textures ](https://i.imgur.com/CZw3u94.jpg) , from the velvet headboard and luxurious bed covers to the soft faux fur rug on the floor. Awash in grey tones, the whole look exudes a rich, peaceful ambiance that invites relaxation and rejuvenation. “I can’t believe this, Bobby. ” 

Visibly overcome with emotion, he wraps Bobby in a huge hug. “Merci,” he says, and it’s clear his eyes are filled with tears, “from the bottom of my heart, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Bobby says, his voice muffled in Booker’s chest. “You deserve it.” 

Their hug is interrupted by the paws of a demanding puppy who, separated from Booker for a few minutes, reasserts possession of her person. Booker picks her up and gives her a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Check this out!” says Bobby, pointing out a small dog bed tucked in just beside the bed. “I knew - when Karamo told me where you were going, I just knew you’d need it!” 

“You’ve also got a lot of books so there’s room for the overflow here,” Bobby points to a tall bookcase that abuts a heavy door with an intimidating deadbolt. “And it’s tight, but you can still get into your storage room if you ever need to.” 

Booker, still holding the little dog, looks from the door to the new position of his bed as if measuring the distance. “Yeah, that’s perfect. If I ever need to get in there, that is.” 

“And finally, here’s your new closet. Tan’s already got it stocked for you.” 

“Did someone call?” Tan appears at the door. “Are we ready to try on clothes - preferably without dog hair?” He herds the others into the front room before giving Booker instructions on how his closet is organised. “I didn’t get rid of all your black t-shirts, I know that you need some of them for work, so I’ve kept the nicer ones and put them into this drawer. That leaves this whole section for your non-work clothes. I want you to try these…” 

***** 

A few minutes later, Booker comes out modeling his [ dressed-down suit with a well-cut t-shirt ](https://i.imgur.com/XC467pJ.jpg?1) , to exclamations of approval: “Well, hello, gorgeous!” “Very nice!” “Some people can just rock a suit, you know?” 

“How does it feel?” asks Tan. 

Booker does a model turn across the room and stretches out his arms. “It feels comfortable, I can still move in it, but it looks impressive. I don’t think I’ve looked this good for decades.” 

“Excellent. Do you have the other one ready?” 

“Sure, boss. I’ll be right back.” 

“Boss,” Tan laughs as Booker leaves the room. 

He returns a few moments later wearing a [ print pullover and well-fitted jeans ](https://i.imgur.com/XAV0G4a.jpg?1) . 

Again, he’s met with approval all around. “Love it!” says Antoni emphatically. 

“It’s a good casual look for going out with friends, maybe for having people over,” Tan suggests. “Just don’t forget, a French tuck in the front…” 

  
“ [ Come sit with us ](https://i.imgur.com/v63MpM2.jpg?1) ,” Karamo invites him, patting a spot on the couch in the middle of the Fab Five. “This has been a really special week for us to spend with you, but I’d like to hear how you’re feeling about it.” 

“I really don’t know what to say,” Booker says, pulling his puppy into his lap, where it begins to lick under his chin. “This week’s been like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life. When I look back at the time before you all showed up, compared to now, I hardly recognize myself. And I definitely don’t recognise my flat,” he says, grinning at Bobby. 

But then his face falls. “I’ve been in a very bad place for a very long time. When I screwed up at work and my team sent me home, that should’ve been a wake-up call. Instead I just spiraled down. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it. There’s no question that I did. But Karamo, you helped me see that I was stuck in that cycle of depression, and that unless I wanted to spend the next ninety-nine years there, I was going to need help. And now I feel like I’m ready to ask for it.” 

He looks to the others. “And the rest of you, you showed me that it’s okay to take care of myself, that even little things like making a meal for myself or getting a good haircut will help me feel more human. I’ve been out of touch with that side of myself for a long time, but it feels like maybe I can make a fresh start.” 

“So you’re seeing your friend on Friday. Are you ready to tell her what you’re going through?” 

“I think so, yeah. Nile’s a good kid, I think she’ll be pretty supportive.” 

“What about your other teammates? Will they support you?” 

Booker grimaces, “Yeah, in their own way, I know they will. It’s just going to take a while for them to come around. I just have to be patient.” 

Karamo smiles with encouragement. “Well, when they do come around, you’ll be showing them the New You!” 

“The New-and-Improved You!” adds Antoni. 

“The Better-Than-Ever You!” says Jonathan. 

There are thanks and encouraging words and hugs then, given as well as received by Booker, who seems for the first time this week to be comfortable at the centre of all this attention. As the men depart with kisses and Booker picks up the little dog to wave goodbye, [Fais Le Vide](https://youtu.be/mxNE1z6VXug) begins to play and the day comes to an end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I promised this would be the last chapter, but Karamo would _not_ stop talking, and it took longer than expected to peruse interior design sites to find the perfect flat remake for Booker, and then Bring Back the Porn snuck up on me like it does every year and I had to write smut ... long story short, I couldn't do justice to the final scene, so it will be posted in a few days as a separate chapter.
> 
>  _Allons, ne me mord pas_ = come on, don't bite me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Let’s go watch our big sexy Frenchman show off his beautiful new self!” suggests Jonathan._

Our final day begins in the Fab Five’s Paris Loft, with a closeup of Antoni taking something delicious out of the oven. The others gather around him. 

“What are you making us, darling?” asks Tan, leaning over to breathe in the aroma of the golden pastries. 

“These are [gougères](https://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/alain-ducasses-gougeres). They’re traditionally served at French new year’s parties with champagne, but they’re so good we’re having them tonight.” He pours sparkling grape juice into their flutes. 

“Well, I think it’s very fitting,” says Karamo. He lifts his glass. “Here’s to a brand new year for Booker.” The others join in with toasts of “cheers” and “santé” and “chin-chin.” 

“Now let’s go watch our big sexy Frenchman show off his beautiful new self!” suggests Jonathan. 

  


**THE FINAL DAY: CLOSING THE BOOK ON THE PAST**

The scene shifts to Booker’s bedroom. He’s wearing a t-shirt as he looks through his closet. His dog, sitting on his bed, watches him. 

“What about this one?” he asks, pulling out a brown heather sweater. 

  


_No, go for some colour,” Tan advises._

  


As if hearing Tan’s words, the puppy whines and flops, her chin on her outstretched paws. 

“No, you’re right.” Booker replaces it with a [ blue knit jumper ](https://i.imgur.com/WSeE2Pv.jpg) . 

  


_Much better,” notes Tan. “That brings out his eyes.”_

  


The next shot is of Booker in the washroom, scrunching gel into his hair until he gets it just right, rubbing conditioner into his beard. 

  


_“He’s using product!” says Jonathan, clapping his hands in approval._  
_“He’s putting some real effort into this,” observes Bobby. “Is there any chance of romance here?”_  
_“I don’t think so.” Karamo shakes his head. “I get the sense they’re just friends. And no friendzoning either.”_  
_“They can just be friends!” says Jonathan. “I think he could use some.”_  
_The other men nod in agreement._

  


The camera follows Booker into the kitchen, where he is arranging cheese, small quiches, and other hors d'oeuvres on a serving plate. 

  


_“What is this?” exclaims Antoni. “Those are baby artichokes! He made baby artichokes?!”_  
_“You didn't show him how to make those?” says Karamo._  
_“No! I’m impressed!”_  
_Bobby grins. “He’s a man of many layers.”_  
_“Apparently so!”_

  


Booker tosses a quiche to his dog, who catches it in her mouth. “Good girl,” he says. 

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Booker wipes his hands on the dish towel, seemingly taking the moment to steel his nerves. Then he opens the door. 

“Nile.” His voice sounds a bit uncertain. “Come in.” 

He leans in for a gentle embrace, but she throws her arms around him with gusto, rocking from foot to foot as she envelopes him in her hug. “Look at you, old man!” she exclaims when they pull apart. “It’s so good to see you!” 

“You, too,” Booker says. “You look great.” 

“And you, wow!” 

_  
_

_“Oh, she’s younger than I expected,” says Bobby._  
_Karamo nods. “I think she’s pretty new to their company.”_  
_“And she’s the only one that keeps in touch with him?” asks Tan._  
_“Yeah,” says Karamo._  
_All five look a little sadder as they watch the screen, but the puppy is jumping up to greet Nile, and their mutual enthusiasm lightens their expressions._

_  
_

“And who’s this?” she asks, kneeling down to pat her better. “I didn't know you had a dog!! 

“That’s Nadège. I just got her a few days ago,” Booker explains. 

“A dog’s a pretty big commitment,” says Nile, her eyes wide. 

“I’m not taking it lightly,” Booker assures her. “All week, the guys kept telling me to take care of myself. I want to do that, but I think I’m better when I’m caring about somebody else.” 

Nile nods, “I think all of us are.” 

“And it’s not like I’m going to be doing anything else for a while.” 

Nile’s mouth twists, like she’s trying to hide a smile as she addresses the dog. “Anyway, you look like you’re right at home. And speaking of home, Booker, wow! I love your place.” She looks around, taking in the elegant space. “I’m guessing it wasn’t like this before?” 

Booker shakes his head, laughing. “No, it most definitely was not.” 

“Bobby did a great job. Can I live here?” 

He snorts. “Have a seat on this sofa. You’ll never want to get up again!” 

Nile settles in with the pup beside her and sends a text on her phone. When Booker brings in the hors d'oeuvres and pours her wine, she looks up from her phone. “So did you have a good week with the Fab Five?” 

“Yeah, I did,” Booker says, thoughtfully. “It wasn’t what I expected - I’ve never had so much pampering in my life.” 

“Uh huh,” says Nile. “Because you got a haircut?” 

“And a facial!” he says defensively. 

Nile just shakes her head. “I thought the Marines were bad. You’re all so used to living like Spartans.” 

“I’m going to try to change that.” Booker takes a drink from his wine, then looks at his glass and sets it down. “Actually, I’m going to try to change a lot of things. This week was what I needed to shake things up. And I have you to thank for that.” 

At this, Booker looks around, directly into one of the cameras in the corner of his bookshelf. His voice lower, he asks, “It’s been a bit strange, though, having all these cameras around. I suppose that’s all being sorted?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Nile says, waving off his concern. “I mean, Copley was livid, but Andy reminded him that he’ll be paying us back for the rest of his life anyway. And then Joe told him you needed this and he could just deal.” 

“Joe said that?” Booker seems to blanche at the name, only adding a split-second later, “Wait, does he even know what _Queer Eye_ is?” 

“He does now!” Nile proclaims. “I made them all watch the first season with me, but I think he and Nicky went back to watch more on their own.” 

Booker chuckles, shaking his head. “So things have been slow, I take it.” 

“Yeah. That’s my fault, I’m afraid. We’re taking it easy while I get up to speed with training. _E sto imparando l’italiano.”_

_“Molto bene,”_ Booker says approvingly. _“E il francese?”_

Nile grins at him. “I’ll need a good teacher for that.” 

This makes Booker look sad, especially when her phone pings again and Nile immediately starts texting something back. “Hey, do you need to go? If this isn’t a good time…” 

“No, Booker! I’m here to see you! I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“I’m okay,” he says hesitantly. Then, taking a deep breath, he says, “How… how are the others?” 

Nile’s phone pings again. “Why don’t you ask them yourself?” she says. 

There’s a quiet knock on his door. Booker looks startled, even slightly scared. 

_  
_

_“What is happening?” Karamo whispers, his eyes wide as he leans forward toward the screen._

_  
_

“It’s okay,” Nile says, her voice just as quiet. “Really, it’s okay.” 

Booker stands, pressing his palms down his thighs as if gathering courage as he crosses the room. He opens the door to a tall woman, looking elegant in a camel-coloured trench coat, leaning in the doorway. Two men stand behind her, one wearing a smile while the other, standing in the rear as if on guard, looks on with reticence. 

“Book,” says the woman, her voice full of affection, a crooked grin on her face. 

_  
_

_“That’s his boss!” exclaims Karamo._  
_“They’re really close,” Antoni notes as Booker grabs her up in his arms, eliciting a chorus of “awwwww” from the Fab Five._

_  
_

“You’re here. You’re really here.” Booker buries his face in her shoulder, shaking as he cries. Andy’s hand cradles the back of his head. 

_“Je suis là,”_ she says quietly into his ear. _“La famille, non?”_

_  
_

_Back at the Loft, Antoni is wiping away his tears; Jonathan has given up and is ugly crying.  
Karamo, on the other hand, is struggling to control his excitement. “This is so important for him. He didn’t think he’d see any of them for months, maybe years. Now they’re showing him that they’re still there, and they’re still supporting him. This is really going to help him move forward.”_

_  
_

When Andy finally releases her hold, the bearded man pushes in for a bear hug. “I’ve missed you, brother,” he says. Booker disappears in his arms, suddenly looking much smaller. 

After a long moment of melting into the hug, Booker draws back. “I’ve missed you, too, Joe.” Joe clasps Booker’s cheek in his hand and just looks at him. 

“He wanted to come weeks ago,” says the other man soberly. He smiles, but it is small and slightly sad. “I suppose we all did.” 

Booker chokes and reaches for him. “I’m so sorry, Nicky. You have to know that, I’m so sorry.” But Nicky says nothing, just wraps him in his arms and holds him, his eyes closed, his face pensive. 

_  
_

_“I have no idea what’s happening,” says Jonathan, his red eyes peeking out over a crumpled tissue, “but it’s breaking my heart.”_

_  
_

“Hey!” shouts Andy in surprise from the living room. “Something just ran across my feet. Was that a giant rat?” 

Booker and Nicky pull apart and Booker goes into the hall to fetch the puppy. “It’s a dog, Andy,” Nile says from the living room. “Don’t tell me you don’t like dogs.” 

Andy shrugs, her grin mischievous. “I always thought they were delicious.” 

_  
_

_“Huh!!” Antoni gasps, offended._

_  
_

“Andy’s more of a cat person,” Joe explains to Nile, claiming one of the big double chairs in the living room. “Get her to tell you about Egypt sometime.” 

As the other three chat in the living room, Nicky waits in the doorway for Booker to return. Finally he reappears with the dog in his arms. “This is Nadège,” he tells Nicky. 

“Nadège,” Nicky says, scratching her head, “ _‘hope’_.” For the first time, his smile for Booker is truly warm. But as he moves to join the others, Booker touches his arm. 

“Nicky, wait, I …” Booker releases the puppy into the room, and watches as she runs directly to Andy. Nicky waits patiently until Booker says, “I figured the 100 years was your idea of penance.” 

Nicky nods. 

“What changed your mind?” 

Nicky takes a considered breath before he speaks. “You have been already doing penance for two centuries,” he says at last. “Your pain does nothing to ease mine. What matters is your resolve to make amends.” His lips twist into a grimace. “If anyone is able to appreciate that, it’s me.” His gaze drifts toward the other room, to the man laughing with the two women. “I could never have done that on my own. You should not have to either.” 

Booker nods, his face awash in relief. “Still,” he says, “this feels like grace.” 

"Grace? Perhaps." Nicky tilts his head, considering this. “But I believe that grace is the time we have been given. We cannot know how long that will be.” 

Booker’s eyes dart over to Andy. “How is she doing?”. 

Nicky shrugs. “You know Andy,” he says, a small twitch playing across his lips. 

Booker smiles then, sad but just a little hopeful. “Still an unstoppable force?” 

“Nile has been good for her. But she needs you too. We all do.” He nods toward the others. “Joe’s moping has become unbearable.” 

Booker looks over at Joe, who seems to have noticed the mention of his name and is staring at the two of them with stars in his eyes. 

“Come.” Nicky claps him on the arm. “Let’s join the others. And I would like to hear how it was to shop with Tan.” 

Booker laughs. “He tried to give me a cardigan. You would have loved it.” 

Nicky lurches back in mock pain. “Ah, and you did not think to keep it for me?” 

“We’ll go back and I’ll buy you one,” promises Booker. 

“Are you going to dress my husband?” Joe says, pulling Nicky down beside him, half into the chair and half onto his lap. “I am all for that.” 

_  
_

_“They’re married!” exclaims Bobby, while Karamo exclaims, “Look at that cute couple!”_

_  
_

The camera pans over the group as Booker, Nadège pressed into his side, tells them about his week. They listen, they laugh, they tease him and each other, and they seem so comfortable together that there’s no doubt of their connection. 

_  
_

_“There’s so much love between them,” observes Karamo. “When he mentioned them, I thought they were just work colleagues.”_  
_“And when he talked about his family,” Antoni points out, “I guess this is who he meant.”_  
_Karamo nods. “I guess I never realized how hard it must’ve been for him to be away from them.”_  
_“Or for them to be away from him,” adds Bobby, a bit wistfully._

_  
_

“In all seriousness, though,” Booker says, after they’ve caught up on his week, “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re all here. I wasn’t expecting to see you, not for a long, long time... if ever,” he adds, nodding to Andy. “I know I’ve been a mess for a long time. I’ve been stuck in my own head, mired down in such regret and sadness that I wasn’t able to see anything else.” He looks to each of them in turn, his eyes glistening. “I couldn’t even see all of you, not until you weren’t around.” 

“We can all do better, Book,” Andy says, her voice cracking on her words. The men nod with her. Nile beams at them all with shining eyes. 

Booker places his hand flat on his chest, over his heart. “Knowing how much you support me means the world to me. And having the Fab Five here helped me see some changes I could make.” He gestures to the room they’re sitting in. “Starting with how to live. Because I’m ready now to do that.” 

Andy raises her glass to him. “Then let’s get started.” 

  


**EPILOGUE: OFF THE BOOKS**

The Fab Five are seated around the work desk in their Paris Loft. A woman enters, a Bluetooth headset in her ear, a clipboard full of fluttering papers tucked against her chest. She looks a bit flustered as she greets them. “Hey, guys.” 

“Hey, Annette,” they chorus. 

Karamo says, “We’re working on the Final Thoughts for Booker, we’ll have it for you by the end of the day.” 

“That’s what I came to see you about. Our footage from the week, all of it ... it’s gone.” 

Jonathan quirks his head at her. “What do you mean, it’s gone?” 

“I mean gone. Poof!” Annette waves her hands up, a helpless shrug. “Max sent the tapes over to editing, like he always does, but they never arrived.” 

“Isn’t everything uploaded to the cloud before he sends it?” 

“Always. And he did that, it's even in the upload logs, but it’s not there anymore. Not on the cloud, not in the can, it’s just gone.” 

“But that’s impossible!” says Antoni. “The cameras were there the whole time.” 

“Yes, I know.” 

“What about the crews?” asks Karamo. “Somebody must have something.” 

“Nothing,” Annette says. “We’ve checked everything. We did leave the embedded cameras on site for the final night. It’s not much, but we’re hoping there’ll be enough for online content. I sent Céline over to the flat to collect them.” 

Tan says, “Wait, you’re saying that the whole week just disappeared - not corrupted or anything, it’s just gone?” 

Annette starts to answer, then holds up her finger. “Hang on a sec, it’s Céline.” She taps her headset. “What? Say that again … No, that’s … You can’t be serious … No…” The men look increasingly worried as she becomes increasingly frustrated the longer the conversation continues. 

At last, she hangs up. “Okay, this is seriously weird.” She sits down at their work table. “Céline’s at the flat, but … it’s empty. There’s nothing there.” 

“What?” exclaims Bobby. “What do you mean, nothing there?” 

“It’s completely bare. No furniture. No people. Not a shred of evidence that anybody was ever there.” 

“The whole apartment?” Bobby shakes his head. “I told him to move out, but I didn’t mean like this!” 

“Céline says she talked to the neighbours,” Annette continues. “They claim not to have seen or heard a thing. And all the numbers we have for anyone there are disconnected.” 

“That’s impossible,” says Karamo. “It can’t have all disappeared into a black hole. Can it?” 

“Beats me.” Annette shrugs again. “I guess we should get packed up. We start shooting in Chicago next week. We’ve got that single mom and her son, she lost her husband in action and just recently lost her daughter in Afghanistan. It’s going to be a rough one.” 

“It will be,” Bobby agrees, “but we can do some good.” 

“It’s what we do,” nods Karamo. 

And as the sounds of [ Baby Outlaw](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nY1SAQB_olQ) fill the Loft, the camera fades out on the Fab Five and _Queer Eye_ episode that never was. 

~~~ The End ~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished! Thank you so much for taking this silly ride into Booker's life with me. I really hope you've enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal heartfelt thanks to the truly lovely @amoama for encouraging me with this silliness and reading it before I was brave enough to post; any errors are mine alone.


End file.
